


Check

by Kona



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Black Eagles Sylvain Jose Gautier, Character Study, Chess, Crimson Flower Route, Edelgard Makes Her Case, Edelgard and Sylvain would be tight don't @ me, Gen, Hope, Mental games, Mentions of PTSD, Panic Attack, Past Abuse, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Someone get these kids therapy like really, Sylvain Self Deprecation, Sylvain/Edelgard if you SQUINT, Testing One Another, introspective, self hatred, tea time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kona/pseuds/Kona
Summary: Sylvain had never considered his future too much.He’d be married off to some wealthy noble or merchant woman, inherit his father’s title, and wield the Lance of Ruin to kill the poor bastards at the Sreng border. The most he had to hope for was to die early in some terrible fight, lest he end up turning into his father--a bitter man obsessed with Crests and keeping appearances.Joining the Black Eagles might have been the only unwritten portion of his future he decided for himself. His small, useless rebellion. But Edelgard had other, bigger plans for him.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98





	Check

**Author's Note:**

> After dunking on Sylvain in literally everything I've written so far, I'm finally treating him right. By dunking on him in a different way. Did, you guys know that as a Sylvain stan I am morally obligated to dunk on him? At least this time it was all in his head. I noticed that literally everyone who writes CF timeline stuff has Sylvain involved in all the big decisions and while this is the Correct way to see how Sylvain grows in that route, I also am a sucker for smart people testing each other, and I think Edelgard and Sylvain would be fabulous friends and tactical buddies.  
> So yeah. Half of this was beta'd by The_Captains_Table who is unfailingly indulgent of me putting my laptop in his lap and going 'pls check if this sounds right and I'm not just bsing on paper'. The other half is not beta'd because I am impatient and not a coward. Enjoy. Also slight content warning for descriptions of Miklan's abuse of Sylvain.

Sylvain had never considered his future too much. 

He’d be married off to some wealthy noble or merchant woman, inherit his father’s title, and wield the Lance of Ruin to kill the poor bastards at the Sreng border. The most he had to hope for was to die early in some terrible fight, lest he end up turning into his father--a bitter man obsessed with Crests and keeping appearances.

Appearances had never matter to Sylvain. He was handsome, a noble, and had a Crest. He could do anything he wanted in Faerghus, even with the chivalry that pervaded the country, and he would never be blamed for it. Under the crown and the Church his Crest made him  _ more _ . It made him untouchable.

Miklan wasn’t so fortunate. 

Christophe wasn’t either. 

How far could he push it? How terrible of a person could he be before people realized that he was rotten? A handsome exterior and a bitter heart. How awful could he be before his brother’s poisonous words were true and he really was a waste of space. 

All it took for Milkan to be exiled was for him to slip up and try to kill him where others could see it. (The scar from the knife in his back still twinged in the cold and it was  _ always _ cold in Faerghus.)

Maybe he had to try and murder someone. 

Would that free him of his responsibilities? Of the pressure that was slowly starting to overwhelm him? Would that help him free his friends?

Ingrid trying to stay strong in the face of losing her future and still wanting to protect those she loved. Felix, who’d curled so far into his grief every time that Sylvain looked at him all he could see was Glenn, Glenn,  _ Glenn _ \--Dimitri, who Sylvain knew was hurting and cracking but would never admit it lest he break. 

How could he help them? 

He’d been the big brother to them that he’d never had-he’d clung so desperately to Glenn’s coattails in the hope he’d learn something of being a good person-a good  _ brother _ . He knew he still wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. 

So why should he try? He was already disappointing everyone who mattered. His family, his friends, his  _ prince _ . Why not the whole world?

He’d already been the cause of one person’s downfall. 

Miklan. 

If only he knew what having a Crest meant. 

Or maybe he wanted this? This life where nothing was your own choice and the price of luxury and comfort was the stripping of your entire personality and freedom. Where you were hated just for being born. Where you were loved just for the Crest inside your chest and not for everything else around it. 

Could anything fill the void that the Crest created? The hole in his chest-made by everything that the world expected of him because fate tapped him in the womb. 

He didn’t imagine that most people would get it. Certainly not Ingrid, despite the fact that she  _ should  _ understand given how her father was passing her around to be auctioned off to the highest bidder for her Crest. Felix had a brother who’d had a Crest, one who loved him. He was never going to complain about the Crest system. 

Dimitri...How could he ever explain it to him? His friend would take it as a crusade to be solved. No, the prince didn’t need to know. Didn’t have to know. It was better that way. 

Maybe that was why, when Byleth offered (rather as a joke) for him to join the Black Eagles after the first mock battle, he jumped at the chance. Byleth was beautiful and powerful. Even though his bitterness at her powerful mystery Crest not dictating her life was eating at him, and she was willing to take him on even as a walking disaster. 

Maybe it was because deep down he knew the Black Eagles wouldn’t judge him for abandoning the Blue Lions. So many of them were misfits in their own way, and so few of them had Crests. There was no burden to perform here. 

And it would piss his father off, which was a perk.

“Sylvain.”

What wasn’t a perk was the leader of the Black Eagles. Edelgard was a small but intimidating woman, and with Hubert always lingering behind her it was never a good idea to cross her. So to have her call him out after class...was concerning.

“What’s up, Your Highness?”

“I was wondering if you would meet me in the gazebo during free period?”

Sylvain knew that despite the fact it was phrased as a question, it wasn’t something he could say no to. So he flashed a fully fake smile and bowed. 

“Of course, I’ll be there.”

When he finally made his way to Edelgard in the afternoon she was sitting in the pretty little gazebo sequestered away in the hedges. She had her ankles crossed with her hands folded neatly in her lap. On the small table in front of her was a cheery teapot with two cups, and perplexingly-a chessboard. 

If Sylvain hadn’t known he had been called to talk with her, he would have assumed she was waiting for the professor. As it was, the set up made him nervous. Logically he knew that this meeting was probably going to be private, but knowing that Hubert was lurking...somewhere out of sight was worrying. How to even attempt to seem confident about this? He’d have to bluster through it somehow. 

“Well, this certainly is cozy, Your Highness,” He finally settled for, his fingers knitting together behind his head, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to take me on a date.” He threw a wink in for good measure, hoping it would throw Edelgard off kilter enough for him to gain a little courage in the interaction.

Instead she simply raised an eyebrow, her face still the picture of diplomacy, and gestured to the seat across from her. 

“I simply wanted to speak with you about your place in the Black Eagle’s house. And perhaps have a game of chess.”

Sylvain swallowed hard, his throat dry all of a sudden. He took the seat, eyes flitting between the teapot and Edelgard. She made a pointed tilt of her head to the two waiting cups, and Sylvain felt a rising dread that for once he was one on the defensive in a social situation. 

Wordlessly he poured the two of them some of the tea. Sylvain’s nose wrinkled at the familiar citrus of bergamot tea. He couldn’t tell rightly if this was a power play or if Edelgard was also a fan of the blend. He figured the latter, given that Hubert was likely the one who brewed this pot. That thought filled him with a bit of dread as he lifted the tea to his lips. 

He waited until Edelgard took the first sip before tentatively taking one of his own. It was brewed to perfection. 

“I see Hubert’s outdone himself with his threatening,” Edelgard had a coy smile on her face, just barely visible over the rim of her teacup, “I assure you, he wouldn’t poison you, if it were to come to that.”

Oh well, that was comforting. Morbid and horrifying, but comforting.

“So I just have to wait for a dagger then?” Sylvain shrugged, the scar on his back itching, “No big deal. I’ve been stabbed in the back before. I lived to tell the tale so I could do it again.”

“I didn’t know assassination attempts on nobles were common in Faerghus.”

It felt a little cruel to be so flippant about his multiple brushes with death but...if he didn’t make light of it…

He didn’t want to dwell on it.

“They aren’t.”

There was a long beat, as Sylvain took a sip of his tea. It really was the best he’d had since coming to the Academy. It was made a little better by the fact that Edelgard didn’t seem to know what to say in response to his words. It was nice to know that she didn’t actually know everything, despite what the whispers on campus seemed to suggest. 

When Edelgard did respond though, it was in the same casual way that Sylvain had responded to her. She carefully placed her teacup down and steepled her fingers together. Her look was as pleasant as it was purposefully blank. 

“Ah. Then this has to do with your brother.”

The roar of Miklan’s twisted body, the hatred in his eyes as he aimed for Sylvain’s chest with the Lance of Ruin--the way he suddenly looked so small after Sylvain’s lance pierced him through the eye and the ichor fell away and it was just his  _ brother  _ lying there, broken. 

_ Your fault your fault  _ **_your fault._ ** __

“Why don’t we start this game, yeah? Ladies first.” 

Sylvain gestured to the board, and watched an eyebrow of Edelgard’s raise. He hadn’t successfully dodged the question then-as she carefully moved one of her pawns forward.

“You’re uncomfortable discussing him? I recall you sharing quite a bit of intel with the Professor last month.” Edelgard watched as Sylvain set one of his pawns up as bait.

He had told Byleth and the knights all he knew about how Miklan fought, and his band of raiders. He’d sparred with Miklan in their youth, sessions that always ended in horrible welts and bruises and broken bones. He could still feel the crack of Miklan’s practice blade against his nose before he passed out. 

Healing had saved his mangled nose, and his wrist, and his fingers, before the Master at Arms finally decided enough was enough and refused to train the two of them together. He had been 8 then, when he started training instead with Felix, Glenn, and Dimitri. It had been years, but Sylvain never forgot how Miklan fought. 

Like a wounded animal snapping at everything that reached out to him. 

“There’s not much to say, Your Highness.” Sylvain shrugged, watching Edelgard’s next move carefully. “He was a brute of a man wanted everything he couldn’t have.”

“Because he lacked a Crest.”

“Yeah. Who knows if all that hatred was there before I was born, but… I never knew him to be kind to anyone.”

Edelgard considered his words for a moment, calculating her next move, “Yet he was able to rally a cohort of man behind his banner. Not an easy feat.”

“Hatred is a common motivator in Faerghus. The land is unforgiving and some people end up getting left behind. The regent doesn’t care enough to fix the problems so bandits are everywhere.”

He’d said more than he should to the Princess of the Empire. It wasn’t a secret that the Empire and Faerghus had a shaky relationship, ever since the Queen had died. The queen had been Adrestian, and there were always rumors that Faerghus was weaker under the regent. Edelgard was ambitious. Any weakness she perceived she easily took advantage of.

That much was becoming clear on the chess board. Sylvain had always intended to lose to her, not wanting to deal with the bruised ego, or Hubert’s ire. But the way she capitalized so early on in her strategy. It was leagues different from the way so many others played. 

“The Crest system has created quite the divide in Faerghus, hasn’t it?” Edelgard took a sip of her tea, surveying the board with ease. “So many bandits...so many disenfranchised.”

“It’s not a perfect system. But with the Sreng region at the Gautier borders and the Alliance and Adrestia on both sides...we’ve always relied on the might of the Holy Relics to protect people.”

“Has no one attempted to broker peace with Sreng?”

Sylvain barked out a harsh laugh, shaking his head, “My father would rather die than admit there’s a better solution than just fighting.” He cocked his head, a bitter smirk on his face, “And that’s a little rich coming from a land that crushed Dagda and Brigid under its heel without breaking a sweat.”

Edelgard matched his smile, tucking her chin over her hands, “Fair. It’s a bit of the pot calling the kettle black to point out how your military operates when my own is not so very different.” She tilted her head somewhat, eyes searching. “And yet I look at how your brother took the Lance of Ruin and I can’t help but think it was a waste.”

“A waste?”

“He clearly had enough of a tactical mind to get in and out of your family’s holdings without losing men. It’s a shame that your father couldn’t see that he still had use to your family.”

Sylvain felt his heart start to squeeze, his chest painfully constricted. It always had to come back to Miklan, didn’t it? All his wasted potential. Everything he could have been. Even Edelgard saw it. 

“Maybe if Miklan hadn’t been blinded by what he didn’t have.” Sylvain’s words were properly bitter now. He’d lost whatever edge he had by staying calm in this situation. “Maybe if he realized he could still be somebody without a Crest. If he realized how many opportunities he threw away by just trying to get revenge on someone who had no choice in the matter.”

The freezing well, fingertips bloody as he tried and failed to climb up and out. His voice raw as he cried for his father, for Miklan, for Glenn, for  _ anyone _ to come and save him. Not being able to feel his feet, the hunger gnawing in his gut. Watching the moon pass overhead, knowing he was going to die. 

The furious look on Miklan’s face as he was brought before Sylvain in bed after Glenn rescued him. The pure hatred seething from every pore. The hissed well wishes. The smugness on his face when Sylvain lied and said he’d tripped. The way Miklan’s fingers had dug into Sylvain’s arm as he whispered that  _ ‘next time I'll just kill you outright.’ _

“You hate him.”

Edelgard’s words cut through Sylvain’s spiral, forcing him to jerk his head up to meet Edelgard’s eyes. There wasn’t any smugness in her expression now. Not even disgust. Just sadness. Understanding. 

It wasn’t what he expected, to say the least. 

“What...?”

Edelgard leaned in now, and locking eyes with him repeated herself. “You hate him. He made your life a living hell and you put a lance through his eye and now he’s dead. To most that would bring them a sense of closure. But you...you still hate him, yes?”

Sylvain’s jaw tightened, ducking his head for a moment to take in a long breath before releasing it. 

“No. I don’t hate him. Not anymore.” He raised his eyes to meet Edelgard’s, solemn and sincere. “When I was a kid I hated his guts. I didn’t understand why he hated me and wanted me dead. Now? I get it. I took everything from him just by being born.”

“A child without a Crest cannot inherit a title in Faerghus.” Edelgard didn’t phrase it as a question. 

“Certain territories have no choice. But Gautier? Forget it. Miklan was never going to inherit. It was just made worse by the fact that I was born ‘right’ when he wasn’t. Maybe he could have been a better person in another world. Maybe in some other universe he has a Crest and I don’t and I’m the one who plotted to murder him and steal his birthright.” 

Sylvain chuckled, humorless and sharp. 

“But as it is, Your Highness? I don’t think I could I do anything but pity him.” Sylvain took a look at the chessboard, where they’d been idly moving their pieces throughout the conversation. “Also you have me in check, just so you know.”

Edelgard looked down at the board, moving her knight in place to capture Sylvain’s king. “You let me win.” 

Sylvain gasped, mock indignance written on his face. He placed a hand to his heart, leaning back in his chair. It felt safer to play dumb and steer the conversation back to lighter grounds.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’m smart enough to pull that off! You flatter me.”

Edelgard gathered up all the pieces around the board and began resetting them. She shook her head, a no nonsense expression on her face. “You  _ are _ smart enough to pull that off. I’ve seen how your mind works.”

She worked meticulously to fix the board, speaking as she went. “I’ve seen the way you take tests, always careful to never score too high. I watched you help Annette with her studies without needing to look up any answers yourself. And I’ve seen the way your mind works even when talking about something distasteful. You still managed to let me win in a convincing way even when you were distracted.”

Sylvain withered under her unwavering gaze, waiting for her to stop so he could retort, but she didn’t let up. She saw through his act in a way that frightened him. Not even the Professor had managed to figure him out yet. 

So how had this princess figured him out so quickly?

“Why do you think you need to hide how smart you truly are?”

There was the question. The rub. Annette had asked him something similar, and he’d given a true enough answer. But somehow, Sylvain knew that it wouldn’t be good enough for him to give such a wishy washy answer to Edelgard. 

“I don’t like disappointing people.” 

It was a true enough statement, but one that seemed to confuse Edelgard. He understood. It seemed, to the outsider he did nothing  _ but _ disappoint people. His family, his friends, his prince. They all had to clean up his messes, deal with every angry boyfriend and father, and punish Sylvain according. He was nothing but minor disappointments. 

“The better a person you act, the smarter and braver you are...the more people want you to live up to that standard all the time. The more pressure and responsibility they put on you.” Sylvain gestured to the chess board, “Losing a game of chess means nothing. Losing a battalion of people because of a mistake  _ you _ made...I don’t need that.”

There was a long pause, Edelgard taking a sip of her tea before moving a pawn forward on the board.

“I’m not a therapist, and I don’t pretend to be the best at understanding everyone, but…” Edelgard straightened up in her seat, staring directly into Sylvain’s eyes, “You’re scared that you’ll be everything Miklan said you were. A mistake, and only worth anything because of your Crest. But Sylvain--”

Sylvain felt something in his chest stir as Edelgard’s chin rose slightly and the air around her seemed to change. It was like the polite princess he knew from class morphed into something else. Like all of her potential and power as an Empress gathered around her for this one man speech. 

“Sylvain you are  _ more _ than just your Crest. You don’t have to sit here and pretend you’re just some common fool because you’re afraid of what people will think. You can rise above on your own merits without your Crest factoring into it.”

“How? Are you going to rip it out of my chest?” 

Sylvain didn’t mean to sneer as he moved a single pawn in response to Edelgard’s challenge earlier, but what she was saying was impossible in Faerghus. 

To Edelgard’s credit she didn’t huff and roll her eyes. Instead she smirked, moving another pawn forward.

“No. I’m going to tear it all down.”

The air rushed out of Sylvain’s chest at the statement. It was bold, foolish. But somehow...The way Edelgard said it, the way she was staring into him, almost right into his soul--It made him believe. Maybe that made him a fool but…

Hell, he’d been a fool for most of his life, what was stopping him from continuing on.

“So.” Sylvain moved another piece, his rook this time, “Where do I factor into that?”

Edelgard smiled, and Sylvain watched as the Empress seemed to fall away and it was just Edelgard again. Or maybe Sylvain was just seeing her more clearly now? Maybe it was in the smile? Maybe he just hadn’t looked close enough at the woman who would rule half of Fodlan.

“Well, when the Professor asked me if I was okay with you joining the Black Eagles I was hesitant, but I knew you had potential.” Edelgard moved one of her own pieces, which Sylvain summarily captured, “I’d met you as a child after all, and knew from then you’d grow into someone interesting.”

Sylvain frowned, eyebrows knitting together. He searched his mind for any instance of meeting Edelgard in his mind. He hadn’t ever been in Adrestia, and he’d never met any Adrestian noble other than Queen Patricia in his youth. It comes to him in a flash. 

The eyes. He’d only ever seen eyes like that once in his life.

“That was me, as a child with Dimitri. My uncle brought me there to keep me safe before…” She trailed off, shaking her head slightly, “Before I returned to Adrestia to complete my primary schooling.”

“You’re the dagger girl?”

There was a surprised chuckle, and the back of Edelgard’s hand rose to cover the smile on her face. “Is that what I was to you all?”

“Well, Dimitri was oddly cagey about you. Wouldn’t even tell us your name. I thought it was because he had a crush on you or something.”

A slight flush rose to Edelgard’s cheeks and Sylvain grinned in response. So there were still ways to get under her skin. Underneath almost everything there was still a young girl in there who could be embarrassed by her childhood. 

“Hardly.” Edelgard winced as Sylvain took one of her knights with ease, and sighed, “The point is this. I know you are skilled and have the potential to become a great leader.”

“Flattery will get you far with pretty girls, but it takes a little more than _ that _ to make me swoon, Your Highness.”

“I want your help to build a future without Crests, Sylvain. One where everyone can rise on their own merits. Where people like Caspar and Dorothea could rise through their own wit to powerful positions rather than worry about birthright. Where Ingrid could just be a knight without worrying that her family will marry her off for power due to her Crest.”

Sylvain considered the chessboard before him as Edelgard made her next move. He had a steady lead on Edelgard now, he knew her next two moves would bring her into check. So he had a moment to ponder over Edelgard’s proposition. It was bold. And something that Sylvain wouldn’t think possible usually. 

He couldn’t imagine Dimitri being able to do this. For as much as he disliked the Crest system, Dimtri was always too soft. Too prone to reaching out his hand to people even if they were likely to stab him in the back. He was always charging ahead to face a problem head on, never planning beyond that. 

There was something about Edelgard though. Maybe it was the earnest way she seemed to lead their class. Maybe it was the clear look in her eyes, the way he couldn’t sense her lying to him about her plans. He didn’t like thinking about the future. But suddenly. 

“What would I need to do? Check, by the way.” Sylvain mused, leaning back in his chair, kicking one of his legs over the other. He regarded Edelgard with all the casualness of a lunch date, as if he weren’t about to betray Dimitri’s trust by allying with the Adrestian heir. 

Edelgard huffed in frustration as she looked over the chess board, realizing how she’d missed Sylvain’s set up. The frustration melted away into the veneer of political politeness as Edelgard took a sip of her tea. When she carefully placed the cup back down she folded her hands in front of her on the table. 

“I would need to you to be willing to stand by my side. To come with me when we graduate and be an outside perspective. You have a keen military mind, Sylvain. I would see it put to good use.”

“And who would this mind be put to use against?”

“Saint Seiros herself, of course.” Edelgard smirked, finally moving her king one space back as a small bit of defiance before it would be captured. 

Sylvain laughed, curling over himself in mirth at the thought of attacking the very church itself. 

Still…

He picked up his knight, looking at it thoughtfully. He’d already half convinced Ingrid to switch classes...Felix wouldn’t be too far behind if he managed to get Ingrid in. He would be able to keep them close and still help Edelgard with this…

This Revolution. 

He smirked, a lazy and cat like thing, as he leaned over the table. He used his arms to brace himself against the edges of the small table. He towered over Edelgard when they were standing, and like this he loomed over her, his face only inches away. 

“You want me to be an attack dog against the Crest system?”

She didn’t back down, meeting his gaze and smirk with her own. She even leaned in a little, close enough that Sylvain wondered if he could get away with stealing a kiss. 

“I do. And I promise you, as the future Empress of the Adrestian Empire, that I will do everything in my power to make this dream come to fruition.”

Sylvain’s smirk tightened at the edges, as he heard a shift in the hedges nearby. His eyes narrowed, shifting to catch the way the leaves rustled ever so slightly. That would be Hubert then, coming to the rescue. 

“Alright then,” Sylvain backed off, returning to his seat as if he hadn’t just committed a grave treason against the Church to dismantle one of its founding power systems. He flipped the knight still in his hand, watching it spin in the air before it landed in his palm. “I’m in. Maybe this is the way I can finally stick it to Faerghus.”

“You are certain? There will be no going back once we start on this path.”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I asked the Prof to join the Black Eagles.” Sylvain shrugged, “I knew I’d either get stabbed by Hubert or end up caught up in  _ something _ . I just thought it would be the Professor’s bullshit I’d get caught up in, that’s all.” He cocked an eyebrow, head tilting ever so slightly, “Unless this is related to whatever the Professor has going on?”

Edelgard’s mouth twitched slightly, and she shook her head, “I could not tell you what our teacher’s plans are. But she’s pledged herself to our growth so I can only hope she will put aside whatever is happening with the Archbishop and join us in the end.”

Sylvain shrugged, nodding his head somewhat, considering the picture as a whole. 

He’d never cared about his future. It’d always been set in stone. But suddenly? It was as if all the pathways had been cleared before him. He was excited for the future for the first time in a long time. He looked at the knight in his hand, and back over the chessboard. 

He smiled. 

The knight made a satisfying clunk against the wooden board as it landed in front of Edelgard’s king. “I’m in, Your Highness.” He flicked his finger, knocking the king over and watched as it rolled across the board. “Checkmate.”

Edelgard extended a hand across the board, and Sylvain took it with a confident grip. She smiled, and Sylvain felt that swell of excitement at the fire in her eyes all over again. He could be walking straight into his doom, but somehow he didn’t care. He was doing  _ something _ that had never been done before. He’d follow Edelgard to the end. He’d see something all the way through at last. 

There was a change in the air. A casualness over something so important and crucial to their futures. The moment gave way to laughter, quiet and incredulous. When it finally tapered off, Edelgard shook her head and squeezed Sylvain’s hand just a little tighter.

“Call me Edelgard.”


End file.
